The Family Business
by WickedGame
Summary: Quatre Winner is the prodigal son, come home. But it seems only his new secretary knows what Quatre truly wants out of life. Quatre/Trowa with background Heero/Duo.


Title: The Family Business

Author: WickedGame

Genre: romance, drama

Pairing: Trowa/Quatre

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: not beta read, foul language, sexuality

Notes: I worked on this one, came back to it and took it in a different direction and now it's ready to post. Go me.

"Ah, the prodigal son returns!"

Quatre Winner turned at the sound of his older cousin's voice. "Dorothy! Thank god you're here."

Dorothy Catalonia flipped her long, blonde hair over her shoulder and jiggled her car keys. "I'm here to pick you up, just as both you and your father asked."

Quatre shouldered his carry-on and made his way to the luggage carousel, Dorothy trailing right behind him.

"What bags are we looking for here?" Dorothy asked, watching as a floral garment bag passed by.

"Two navy blue suitcases with red yarn tied to the handle," Quatre told her, grimacing at the garish motif on a large suitcase. The rest of his things had been shipped from London some days ago, straight to his new apartment from his college apartment. "Actually, here they come now."

The duo walked in silence towards the parking garage, the luggage cart making a rattling noise as it passed over asphalt and metal grating. Dorothy opened the trunk on her convertible remotely and hefted the bags inside while Quatre returned the luggage cart to its corral.

Once in the car, Dorothy asked the obvious question. "So, going to work for Uncle Hisham?"

Quatre sighed. "Going into the family business, just like you did."

Dorothy shifted into first gear before commenting. "I was made for the family business. I always knew that I was going to work for Winner Enterprises. You? Not so much. I always thought you were going to be a musician or an artist."

Quatre looked out the window as Dorothy paid their parking and started to drive once again. "Well, things change. People change. Now I'm just as dedicated to running Dad's business as I once was to playing the violin, or the piano."

Dorothy frowned. _We'll see, cousin. Have you changed enough though?_

Quatre unpacked another box, placing a photo frame on his new, teak wood desk. The picture was of him and his best friend, Duo, on the day they graduated university in Cambridge. It hadn't been his first choice for college, but meeting Duo his very first day there had made it all worthwhile.

"Getting settled in okay?"

Quatre turned at the sound of his father's voice. "Yeah, everything's fine. Thank you for the desk. It's gorgeous."

Hisham Winner smiled and pointed out towards the front of Quatre's office. "I took the liberty of hiring you a secretary. I thought you might like not having that pressure on you. If you don't like him we can always release him and hire another."

Quatre put down the paperweight he was studying and smiled. "Is he here?"

Hisham nodded. "He's right out front. His name is Trowa Barton. His resume was impeccable."

Quatre brushed off his arms quickly and followed his father out the door and into the common area all the secretaries shared. They stopped next to a large cubicle. Soft music poured from a radio on the desk.

"Mister Barton, a moment of your time?"

Quatre was taken aback when he got an eyeful of his secretary. Trowa Barton was taller than him by a good four inches, and had impossibly green eyes.

"Yes, Mister Winner?"

Hisham smiled. "This is your boss, Quatre Winner. He's not only my son, but the future CEO of this company."

Quatre wanted to wince at his father's words. _Way to make me sound puffed-up and self-important there!_

Trowa held out his hand in greeting. "It's nice to meet you, Mister Winner. I'm looking forward to working with you."

Quatre took his hand and shook it. "Please, call me Quatre. My father is Mister Winner around these parts."

Trowa smiled broadly at Quatre's words. "All right, boss. Quatre it is."

Quatre pointed back towards his office. "I have an open door policy, Trowa. You let me know if anything's bothering you or if you have something you need to discuss with me."

"Thank you," Trowa said gratefully as he sat back down at his desk. "I'll keep that in mind."

Quatre nodded at his father in parting and walked back to his office with a smile on his face that quickly faded once he sat down in his chair.

_What the hell am I thinking? I shouldn't be entertaining thoughts like that about my secretary!_

It was those eyes that got him, he decided. They were green and framed with the longest lashes he'd ever seen on a guy. Not that he'd looked at too many guys in his time. There was Duo, and Duo's boyfriend Heero, but other than that he'd been so busy with his studies at Cambridge that he hadn't had time to entertain thoughts of his sexuality. He knew he was gay, but only Duo and Heero knew that besides him. Not even Dorothy knew, and they had been attached at the hip since they were toddlers.

Quatre didn't know how he was going to work when those eyes kept calling to him, but he knew he had to, because his father was counting on him to help run their family business. He had an obligation to help, whether or not it was what he really wanted to do with his life.

It was three days before Quatre got his office exactly the way he wanted it, and he smiled as he surveyed the room. He turned suddenly when there was a knock on his open door.

"What can I do for you, Trowa?" Quatre smiled as his secretary walked in.

"I'm sorry, Quatre, but this stack of contracts just came up from legal," Trowa said apologetically as he set the stack on Quatre's desk. "Miss Noin said that they all need to be signed, and your father has gone to Phoenix for a client meeting."

Quatre eyed the stack and sat down at his desk. "Thank you, Trowa. How do you like working here?"

"To be honest? It's a little stuffy for my tastes."

Quatre chuckled at Trowa's response. "Yeah? It's a little stuffy for me, too."

"You?"

Quatre looked up and twirled his pen between his fingers. "Yeah. This time of day in Cambridge and I'd be out on the football field with friends or maybe still sleeping off the previous night's visit to the pub."

"You went to Cambridge?" Trowa asked, shifting from one foot to the other.

"Sit down, Trowa," Quatre gestured to a leather chair in front of his desk. Trowa did as he was told, and crossed one leg over the other. Quatre tried not to reveal how much Trowa's inherent grace impressed him. "Yes, I went to Cambridge."

"Did you enjoy it?" Trowa asked, relaxing in the comfortable chair.

"I loved every minute of it," Quatre confessed, and meant it. He had loved it, from the minute he'd boarded the plane to London until the moment he had set his feet back on American soil. "There's no other place like it. My best friends, Duo and Heero, are still there."

Trowa smiled and pointed at a picture on the wall. "Is that them?"

Quatre looked at the photo in its black frame. "Yes, that's them. I took that picture at Christmas last year."

"They're very much in love, aren't they?"

Trowa's question surprised Quatre, and he found himself almost blushing. "To distraction. They met in a café one evening. Duo accidentally tripped Heero and Heero nearly landed right on top of him. They've been together ever since that night."

"Isn't it amazing? How one day things can be going a certain way and then, out of the blue, fate drops someone special right in your lap?"

Quatre looked away then, not wanting to show how true he thought that statement was when it came to Trowa. "It is amazing. At least for them."

Trowa stood and headed for the door. "I have a few phone calls to make and appointments to book, so I should get back to my desk."

Quatre waved Trowa on, picking up the first contract and starting to read it through. He thought it might be a very long day indeed, if he didn't quit thinking about the way his secretary's eyes sparkled when he smiled.

It was days later when Quatre saw Dorothy again. She popped into his office unannounced and told him that she wouldn't take no for an answer when it came to Quatre having lunch with her.

Quatre gestured to the pile in front of him. "Dorothy, I have a mountain of paperwork to do and a meeting in two hours."

Dorothy just stared at him until he sighed. "Okay, okay. Let me let Trowa know I'm going."

"Did I hear my name?" Trowa walked in the door, holding a courier envelope. "This arrived for you just now."

"It'll keep until after lunch. I'm going out with Dorothy for a bit," Quatre explained.

"You're actually going to lunch?" Trowa asked, his voice surprised.

"Yes," Quatre said with a heavy voice. "I do actually eat, you know."

"When you remember to," Trowa pointed out. "I've watched you work through every lunch this week alone."

Quatre wanted to grin. Trowa actually sounded worried about him! But he remembered who was in the room with them and stifled it before standing and walking to the door.

"Don't worry," Dorothy was saying to Trowa, "I'll make sure he eats."

"Please do," Trowa responded, and Quatre couldn't hide his blush. Didn't they realize he was standing right there? He cleared his throat and walked past Trowa, noting the subtle smell of cologne as he passed.

"Coming, cousin?" he asked Dorothy, who was still sitting in the chair.

"Of course," she said lightly as she stood and walked to the door.

Quatre sat across from Dorothy and waited for her to say what she wanted to say. Whenever Dorothy had something to say the air was palpable around her, and she chewed on her lower lip.

"Quatre…" she began and then she stopped. She looked at him and then unfolded her napkin and placed it on her lap. "Quatre…are you aware that your secretary has a crush on you?"

Quatre felt his face grow warm. "W-what? What makes you say that?"

Dorothy looked at him like he was oblivious. "For one, he was hovering outside your office. I saw him pass by at least four times before he 'heard' you say his name. Second, I've never met anyone who cared whether or not their boss ate lunch. Not even Relena asks me if I've had lunch half the time, and she's my best friend!"

"He could just be genuinely caring like that, you know. And it could've been a coincidence that he passed by that many times!" Quatre was fighting the blush but it kept rising, and Dorothy wasn't a dumb blonde.

"Quatre…are you gay?" she asked bluntly, noting the redness of his cheeks and his obvious distress.

Quatre bit the inside of his cheek before answering. "So what if I am?"

Dorothy's face became sympathetic and she reached over to touch Quatre's hand. "It's okay if you are, I don't mind."

Quatre looked at the hand on his and smiled nervously. "I haven't told Dad."

Dorothy nodded and removed her hand, placing it back in her lap. "I would've been surprised if you had told him and not me."

Quatre paused, and then asked the question weighing on his mind. "Do you really think Trowa has a crush on me?"

Dorothy nodded fervently. "I do. I really do. Do you like him?"

Quatre groaned and buried his face in his hands briefly before looking back up and answering. "He's my secretary, Dorothy! How stereotypical would it be for a boss to hit on his secretary?"

"Not to mention the old saying 'Don't dip your pen in the company ink'," Dorothy added, taking a sip of ice water. "I can understand where you might be frustrated by it all."

"He's just so…have you seen him? Those eyes alone are worth the price of admission!" Quatre hissed, casting his eyes around the room to see if anyone was listening in. "It's just a huge mess waiting to happen."

Dorothy nodded. "But…"

"But what?" Quatre asked.

"What if the mess is worth it?"

Dorothy's words echoed in Quatre's brain for the rest of the day. He was still thinking of them when he came home. He pressed the button on his answering machine and smiled at the accented voice there.

"Hey, Q! What's up? You haven't called me to let me know you got to the states okay, you bastard. Heero's bloody pissed at you too, you know? Call me you asshole!"

Quatre looked at his watch and realized it was too late to call Duo back. Even if they were best friends Duo liked sleep way more than he liked Quatre. Duo liked sleep more than he liked his boyfriend, and that was a lot.

Quatre sighed and removed his shoes, dropping them next to the front door. He walked into the kitchen and grabbed a beer out of the fridge and sat down next to the large window in his living room.

_What to do?_ He asked himself that question over and over again, mulling it around in his mind. There were so many repercussions to be had if Dorothy was wrong and Trowa didn't like him. But there were so many rewards to be had if she was right.

Did he want her to be right? Quatre had to admit that he was scared. He wasn't the type of person to hide his feelings for someone, but revealing how he felt about Trowa should they get together would mean coming out to his father. Hisham Winner did not get to where he was in the business world by being stupid. Quatre knew that if he and Trowa got together it would only be a matter of time before his father put two and two together. So that meant that Quatre would have to tell him.

He had never been great at telling his father anything. He didn't tell his father when he was jumped on the way home from school because a kid thought his face was too pretty for a boy's. He didn't tell his father he wanted to major in music instead of business. He'd never even told his father that his two best friends were gay.

Winner Enterprises followed the law, of course, and never discriminated against anyone for their sexual orientation, but what about Mister Winner himself? How did he feel about gay men?

In the end, Quatre just finished his beer and went to bed. Nothing was going to get resolved until he found out just how high Trowa's regard for him was.

On Monday morning, Quatre found himself standing in front of Trowa's cubicle, waiting for his secretary to finish up a phone call.

"Mister Winner isn't available for meetings between the hours of twelve and two," he heard Trowa say. Since when was that a rule? He didn't remember ever saying that.

"Mister Winner has a flight to Oregon at three in the afternoon that day, but I'm sure we can squeeze you in at about eleven? Eleven it is then. Good day." Trowa took off his headset and cocked his head. "Quatre, what can I do for you?"

"Since when do I not have meetings between twelve and two?" Quatre asked, still confused.

Trowa smiled. "Dorothy and I agreed that you needed to eat, not have business meetings throughout your lunch time."

Quatre groaned. "She got to you too, I can't believe it! Well, since the two of you are in this together I think it's only fair that you share her other duty."

"Duty? What duty?"

"You have to have lunch with me today, since she's away on business," Quatre informed him.

Trowa looked at his watch and then at the computer. "Should I come get you at noon, then?"

Quatre nodded. "I'll be in my office. Make the reservation for someplace nice and preferably nearby."

The future CEO of Winner Enterprises sighed and collapsed into his chair when he reached his office, running his hands through his blonde hair. It had only been an invite to lunch, but it had taken all he had just to ask. He was so nervous that he had rehearsed what he was going to say half a dozen times before he finally decided to go see Trowa. And what had come out of his mouth had been noticeably less smooth than the approach he had used in the mirror.

_Grrreat, Quatre. Couldn't you have come up with a better excuse to make him come to lunch with you? _

The place was nice, and nearby. Quatre had dined there before and enjoyed it thoroughly.

"Cathy loves to come here," Trowa said as they sat down across from on another.

"Cathy?" Quatre asked as he unfolded his napkin and placed in on his lap.

"My sister," Trowa explained as tall goblets of ice water were sat down in front of them.

Quatre opened the menu even though he knew what he wanted already. He watched as Trowa opened his up also.

"What do you like here?" Trowa asked. Quatre blushed as his thoughts went south, and he hid it by holding his menu up in front of his face.

"I personally adore their gnocchi," Quatre said as his blush faded. "The sauce they serve it with is heavenly."

Trowa smiled. "Then that's what I'll have."

They ordered some marinated olives to start their meal, and glasses of red wine to match the richness of the gnocchi.

Trowa relaxed in his chair and gazed at Quatre speculatively. Finally, he asked a question. "Do you like working for Winner Enterprises?"

Quatre didn't have to think about it, he knew he didn't fully enjoy it there. "I like working."

"But that doesn't answer my question," Trowa said as he leaned forward. "Do you like working for Winner Enterprises? I don't think you do."

"That's very forward of you, to assume that I don't like working for my father," Quatre said with a frown. "You hardly know me."

Trowa nodded thoughtfully, but pressed on. "I watch you, you know. You don't enjoy the work you do. You seem happy enough, but there has to be something else you'd rather be doing."

Quatre didn't tell Trowa that what he'd rather be doing is bending over the table while Trowa pounded his ass. Instead, he saw an opening and attacked. "You watch me? Aren't you supposed to be doing secretarial work? What's a secretary doing spying on the boss? Making sure he eats? Making sure he goes home on time and doesn't work late? You're the weirdest secretary I've ever met!"

Trowa laughed loudly, making several patrons look their way. "Quatre Winner, you're either blind or stupid. Since I've never taken you to be stupid, it must be the former."

Quatre frowned, his eyebrows furrowing. "Blind? Blind how?"

Trowa smiled knowingly as their waiter brought their plates to the table. "I'll tell you later."

Quatre picked up his fork and began to eat, clueless as to what Trowa was going on about.

Later came after everyone else went home for the night and Quatre thought he was the last person in the office. Even the janitors had left, and it was going on ten in the evening.

A knock on the doorframe let Quatre know that someone was there.

"Trowa? I thought you went home hours ago," Quatre said as he undid his tie and folded it neatly.

"I did. I came back, though. I knew you'd still be here."

It was then that Quatre noticed that Trowa wasn't wearing what he normally wore. Instead, he wore sinfully tight jeans, a pair of black leather boots and a motorcycle jacket. In his hands he held two helmets – one dark metallic green and the other plainly black.

"You ride?" Quatre asked as he rose from his desk.

"When the weather allows for it," Trowa answered. "Can I take you for a spin?"

Quatre gulped and willed himself not to think of the sexual connotations that question brought up. Instead, he grabbed his jacket and nodded, not wanting to seem chicken.

"I'm always willing to try something new," he said as he locked up the office. "Just promise me I won't become road hamburger."

Trowa laughed and handed Quatre the black helmet. "Where's the fun in promising you that?"

The motorcycle out in front of the building was sleek and black. Trowa took the helmet Quatre was holding and put it on his head, helping him to tighten the straps.

Quatre watched Trowa throw one long leg over the seat of the bike and then pat the area behind him. "Hop on."

Quatre approached the bike cautiously and imitated Trowa, putting his leg over like he was mounting a horse. Before he knew it he was intimately nestled against Trowa's backside and he was glad it was dark outside.

"Where are we going?" Quatre asked as Trowa started the engine.

"It's a surprise," Trowa told him as they started to pull away from the curb.

Quatre immediately threw his arms around Trowa as the bike started to move. The seat vibrated beneath him and the roar of the engine was loud in his ears. Even if he had wanted to say something he doubted Trowa would've heard him. They traveled down the streets of the city, the lights and sounds whipping by them as Trowa took them far out of the city, to the point where the only lights to be seen were the moon and stars.

Trowa finally slowed down at a point far away from the city, stopping very simply on the side of the road. The pair of them climbed off the bike and Trowa pushed it further into the bushes.

"Where are we?" Quatre asked, turning around in a circle.

"I told you, it's a surprise," Trowa said holding out his hand. Quatre stared at it for a moment before deciding to take it, and he was quickly pulled onto a narrow dirt path.

"I can't see a thing!" Quatre exclaimed as another stick crunched under his feet.

"I can," Trowa said simply. "Besides, I've been here so many times that I don't need to be able to see to know where I'm going."

"Where is here?" Quatre asked but got no response.

Soon the narrow path opened into a clearing. And in the illuminated clearing was a still pool, fed by a slowly moving creek.

"Wow," Quatre said as he sat down on a large rock. "How'd you find this?"

"I like to explore. I like to go places and see things and find places no one else can find. Granted, this place has obviously been found by more people than just me, but it's still lost enough to intrigue me." Trowa picked up a rock and skipped it across the pool.

Things were quiet for a moment before Quatre spoke up. "Why'd you bring me here?"

Trowa sat down on the rock across from Quatre and brushed his long bangs out of his eyes. "Because out here, no one can hear your secrets. No one but me, at least."

Quatre sat up straight. "What makes you think I have secrets?"

Trowa shrugged. "Everyone has secrets. Even Quatre Winner has some secrets, I think. I just want to know what they are."

Quatre bit his lower lip and looked up at the moon. "I'm not sure you want to hear all my secrets. You might regret asking to know the truth."

"How about I tell you one of my secrets, and then you tell me one?" Trowa asked, picking up an errant stick and drawing in the dirt with it.

Quatre took a deep breath and held it. One, two, three, exhale. "I can't promise to reveal anything too exciting."

Trowa jabbed the ground with the stick. "I used to be a circus clown."

Quatre laughed. "Seriously?"

Trowa nodded. "I'd still be doing it if the circus hadn't gone under. Cathy found work with another circus but I decided to try doing something respectable. So I went to school for a little while to get some computer skills under my belt and then went to work as a secretary. And then a position opened up with Winner Enterprises and I was genuinely excited to even get an interview."

Quatre frowned a little. "My father said your resume was impeccable."

Trowa smiled. "If he said that then I'm flattered. I had only worked as a secretary for a few months before I applied for the job with Winner Enterprises."

Quatre thought something felt a little off, but then he was distracted by Trowa clearing his throat.

"Yeah?"

Trowa smiled. "Your turn. Tell me a secret."

It was the way he said it that made Quatre's eyes widen. It wasn't a question, but a seductive plea.

"I didn't want to work for my father," Quatre said softly. "You were right. I'm not happy there."

Trowa nodded. "What did you want to do?"

Quatre laughed. "I wanted to stay in London. I wanted to go to the pubs with my friends and play piano for whatever tips I could garner in a night. I wanted to write music and live in a small flat. I don't regret coming back though."

Trowa's head cocked to one side. "You wanted to stay in London but don't regret coming back here? That makes no sense."

Quatre shook his head. "Nuh-uh. You have to tell me another secret. Tit for tat."

Trowa looked to be deep in thought, and then he finally spoke. "My parents are dead. It's been just Cathy and I since we were about sixteen."

"How?" Quatre asked, his heart heavy with the news.

"Car accident. It was raining, the tires needed to be replaced and another car met them head on when they hydroplaned. Stupid mistake for them to even be on the roads that night. It's okay. I'll never get over it, per se, but the hurt has gone away over time."

The crickets were loud as their voices fell silent. Neither one of them spoke for a while, but then Trowa reminded Quatre it was his turn.

"I don't regret coming back here because it gave me a chance to see Dorothy again, and it gave me a chance to meet you. I can't regret those two things no matter how much I might wish I could. And one of those things is influencing every decision I make about my life right now." Quatre felt like revealing anything more about how he felt about Trowa might be pushing it.

"You shouldn't let other people dictate your life," Trowa pointed out, crossing his long legs in front of him at the ankle. "You're a blind man, Quatre Winner."

"You said that at lunch too," Quatre replied. "I wonder what makes me so blind?"

"I said I'd tell you later, didn't I?" Trowa murmured before standing up. "I'll tell you one more secret: someone who works for you is in love with you, or is very close to it at any rate."

Quatre looked down and then lifted his face to the sky. "I have one more secret too: I have a terrible infatuation with someone who works for me."

Trowa smiled gently and held out his hand again. "It's time to go. We have to work tomorrow."

Quatre looked back at the sparkling pool of water and wished it were warm enough to swim. Then he took Trowa's hand and let him lead him back through the bushes and trees to where the motorcycle awaited them.

The trip back was surreal. It seemed they were the only two people on the road. Quatre didn't know what time it was, nor did he care. He was calling in sick tomorrow. He wrapped his arms around Trowa's waist tightly and bravely let his helmeted head rest on Trowa's back.

Quatre looked at his watch once they dismounted in front of the Winner Enterprises building.

"Two in the morning!" Quatre yawned and stretched up on his tiptoes. "Don't come into work tomorrow, Trowa. I won't be here."

Trowa was silent for a moment as Quatre handed him back his spare helmet but then he asked a question. "What are you doing now?"

Quatre paused for a moment. "I guess going home."

"So you're not busy then?"

Quatre shook his head and then smiled. "I make a mean omelette. My place isn't too far from here. We could grab something to eat and then you could crash. There's no need for you to drive all the way back to your place tonight."

Trowa nodded and put his helmet back on. "Well then, Boss, lead the way."

Quatre was right, he did make a mean omelette. Trowa nearly laughed at the three-egg monstrosity sitting on the elegant plate in front of him. Bell peppers, onion, ham, cheese, mushrooms…it seemed that the omelette had everything but the kitchen sink in it.

Quatre buttered two pieced of sourdough toast while his omelette cooked on the stove. "You may find it funny but eggs are a college student's best friend. Well, that and instant ramen."

"Quatre Winner has never eaten instant ramen," Trowa shook his head as he took a bite. "I would stake my life on it."

"Okay, so I haven't, but I knew students that lived on the stuff," Quatre pointed with his butter knife. "And I happen to love eggs."

"How do you like them the most?" Trowa asked.

"Eggs Benedict. That's easy," Quatre answered as he set down a piece of toast in front of Trowa. "What about you?"

"Omelettes," Trowa said, his mouth full. Quatre laughed and refilled his orange juice.

Quatre moved around nervously, pausing temporarily to flip his omelette and to add the filling before sliding it onto a plate. He took a couple of bites and then put his fork down. What was he doing? Trowa was interested, that much was obvious. Then what was he doing still fiddling around? Quatre Winner was a strong, sophisticated, suave businessman… Who was he kidding? Quatre Winner was human, and nervous. He hadn't ever slept with anyone and had only fooled around with maybe a couple of people. Not that Trowa being here this late at night meant they were going to sleep together or anything…

"Penny for your thoughts?" Trowa interrupted his stream of consciousness and Quatre looked up, embarrassed.

"My thoughts are not for sale at this point," Quatre avoided eye contact with Trowa until the redness in his face had gone away. When he finally felt brave enough to look Trowa in the face again he noted Trowa was nibbling on his toast and had finished his omelette.

"Should I go?" Trowa asked. "You seem uncomfortable."

Quatre shook his head and reached for his glass of orange juice. Unfortunately his aim was off and the glass got knocked over, spilling orange juice down the front of his shirt and slacks. "Shit! Stay right there. I will be right back."

Quatre unbuttoned his shirt as he walked and shrugged it off. He tossed it into the basket of things to go to the cleaners and removed his belt, slacks, and boxer briefs without even bothering to close the door. He grabbed the pajama pants off of the bed and pulled them on over his naked ass and removed a white t-shirt from his dresser and put it on. It wasn't what he was used to entertaining in but it would have to do.

"Sorry about that, Trowa," Quatre said as he walked back into the kitchen. Trowa wasn't there anymore though. Quatre found him in the living room.

Trowa turned around from looking at the frame photos on the wall and didn't smile. "You should go back to England."

Quatre shook his head. "I can't. My dad needs me to help run the family business."

"Screw the family business. Winner Enterprises was doing fine before Quatre Winner came home and will do fine even if he's not there to inherit it."

Quatre didn't want to be hurt by the statement, but he was. "Do you want me to leave? Do you want me to go back to London?"

"I want you to do what you want for once, and not what your father wants," Trowa insisted as he walked toward Quatre. "I want you to wear jeans and t-shirts and play the piano in a seedy pub and laugh with your friends and not be cooped up in an office, playing heir to the throne!"

"What I want to do? Who has ever cared about what I wanted to do? Even you want me to do what you think is right for me. What if what's right for me is right here in America? What if what's right for me is you?" Quatre's shoulders hunched and he sighed. "There's a blanket in that chest there. Feel free to crash on the couch. Good night."

Quatre just didn't want to fight. Not with Trowa. The best solution when he was so tired and so overwhelmed was to go to bed. Things would look different in the morning.

"I don't know whether to shake you or to kiss you," Trowa said softly, from behind Quatre. It made him stop.

"Do one or the other, but do it now," Quatre said as he turned around.

Trowa threaded his right hand through Quatre's hair and held his head in place while his left hand threaded its fingers though Quatre's right. Quatre closed his eyes when Trowa's lips got so close he couldn't see them anymore, and they landed softly on his own. It was a brief kiss, too brief for Quatre, but he respected Trowa's decision to pull back after a few moments.

"Good night, Trowa," Quatre said gently as he turned and walked back to his bedroom.

Try as he might, Quatre Winner couldn't sleep a wink. But by the time dawn came he had made a few decisions and he couldn't lie in bed any longer.

Trowa was a heavy sleeper. He was still sleeping soundly when Quatre got out of the shower. He slept through Quatre running out for coffee and bagels. Quatre finally just smiled and went to take care of his first order of business.

The office was nearly empty but Quatre knew his father would be in already. He knocked softly at the door to his father's office and opened it when he heard his father's voice.

"Quatre!" Hisham exclaimed. "What a surprise! I thought you might be Stacie, here with my coffee. Why are you wearing jeans?"

"I'm not coming in today, officially," Quatre said as he took a seat across from his father. "I have something I wanted to confirm with you. Can I see Trowa's resume?"

"What, your secretary? He had a perfect resume, Quatre. I only hire the best for my son!"

"Time to tell the truth, Father. I want to see Trowa's resume."

Hisham Winner sighed and ran his fingers through his dark hair. "Quatre, I just… I really had the best of intentions…"

"Why'd you hire a secretary with very little experience?" Quatre asked, getting down to the point.

"Well, you'd never… you hadn't dated anyone… you never looked at girls. I knew early on you weren't straight, Quatre. I figured you'd tell me in time but you never did. And then Dorothy and I had an idea…"

"Dorothy!" Quatre gasped. He had guessed at his father's intentions but had never known that Dorothy was in on it too!

"We though that maybe if we hired a male to work close to you then maybe you'd hit it off… I just wanted you to be happy to work here."

Quatre wanted to sigh but he stopped himself from showing that kind of reaction. "You want me to be happy?"

"Quatre, that's all I've ever wanted. I could hear it in your voice every time I talked to you on the phone from England. You loved it there. I was afraid you wouldn't come back. I was ecstatic when you said you would."

Quatre looked past his father and out the window. "You knew I was gay? You knew I didn't want to come back here?"

Hisham Winner nodded and Quatre smiled.

"Father, I quit."

Winner looked Winner in the eye and finally Hisham nodded. "I knew you weren't meant for the family business."

Quatre stood and walked around the desk. He hugged his father briefly and then straightened up. "You might want to think about grooming Dorothy to inherit the company. She loves it here."

"I'll think about it," Hisham winked and Quatre walked quickly back towards the elevator.

The shower was running when Quatre got back to his apartment and he smiled. He hoped it wouldn't be the last time he heard someone else using the shower in his place. Trowa's coffee and bagel were gone and Quatre quickly cleaned up the crumbs and threw the cup away.

The water shut off and Trowa emerged moments later, a towel wrapped around his waist.

"I don't have a change of clothes," he said sheepishly, the towel riding low on his hips.

Quatre smiled. "I can wash your clothes, if you want."

"But then all I'll have to wear is this towel," Trowa said slowly as a droplet of water made its way down his chest, towards his navel.

"I quit today," Quatre said suddenly as he stepped closer to Trowa.

"Just like that? I suppose you'll go back to London now," Trowa said as he backed into the wall.

Quatre shook his head and found himself staring at the tight muscles on Trowa's abdomen. "No, I'm staying here. Well, not here exactly. I have to move to a smaller place. This place was paid for by the company and I'm no longer with Winner Enterprises."

"How did your dad take it?" Trowa asked, pushing his hair out of his eyes again.

Quatre smiled. "He wants me to be happy. That's all he's wanted all along."

Trowa frowned. "Does that mean I'm out of a job?"

Quatre shook his head. "Just because my dad was trying to set us up doesn't mean that you lose your job now that I've quit. Work there as long as you want."

"What will you do?" Trowa asked. He grabbed the towel just it started to slip.

"First, I'm going to get that towel off of you," Quatre said, feeling brave and a little giddy. "Then we'll see where things go from there."

Trowa let go of the towel and handed it to Quatre. Quatre smiled and threw it over his shoulder. Then he held out his hand to Trowa. "Have I given you the tour of my bedroom yet?"

The phone rang in England at two in the morning.

"This had better be good," Duo said as the phone started ringing on his side of the bed.

Heero sat up and turned on the bedside lamp as Duo picked up his cell phone.

"It's Quatre! Shit!" Duo pushed a button and put the phone to his ear. "I know you're filthy rich and everything, Mister Winner, but calling me in the middle of the night…are you with someone?"

Heero's eyes widened as he looked at Duo. Quatre, with someone?

"Slow down Quatre. You quit? You met someone? Whoa, whoa!"

Heero listened to the one-sided conversation and smiled. They had missed Quatre since he had left but it sounded like he was happy.

"You're going back to school? Music? You want to play piano in a bar? Well, what about the apartment and the dry cleaning and the maid? You don't care about all of that, I know Quatre. You've never been about the money anyway but what about your dad…he knew you were gay?!"

Over on the other side of the pond, Trowa was nuzzling Quatre's neck and using his teeth to make little marks on the blonde's pale skin. Quatre squirmed but didn't resist as he talked to Duo.

"I'm sending tickets, tomorrow! Yes you will accept them and you're coming out here for a few days. I insist! There's someone special I want you to meet. I have to go, Duo. Look for those tickets tomorrow!"

Trowa lifted his head from Quatre's neck and pushed the blonde back down onto the pillows. "Someone special?"

Quatre blushed and looked away. "You are, you know?"

"I'm what?"

"Special," Quatre said softly, his eyes twinkling cheerfully. "You're special to me."

Trowa kissed him then, long and slow. When he did that Quatre didn't know up from down but he liked it.

"So tomorrow you go to see about school?" Trowa asked when he let Quatre up for air.

Quatre nodded. "And I'm going to find a bar to play piano in."

Trowa looked like he was deep in though, and then he spoke up. "I have a secret to tell you."

Quatre laughed, remembering that night out in the middle of nowhere. "Tell me."

"I play the flute," Trowa said simply.

Quatre laughed and rolled Trowa onto his back. He latched onto a brown nipple with his teeth and bit down gently before letting go.

"Is there anything you can't do, Mister Barton?" Quatre asked, his hand sneaking down lower, making Trowa catch his breath.

"Of course there is," Trowa said, his voice raspy. "Don't be silly."

-The End-


End file.
